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I could also feel a couple of long nails biting into my palmThe others felt short and raggedThey must have broken offSomewhere - perhaps on the carpet upstairs in Little Pink - were a couple of ghost fingernails"Go away," I told it"I don't want you anymore, go away and be deadLike the arm to which it had once been attached, the hand itched and throbbed and ached and refused to leave me"Then go find my daughter," I said, and the tears began to flow"Bring her back, why don't you? Bring her to meI'll paint anything you want, just bring her to meI was just a one-armed man with a phantom itchThe only ghost was his own, drifting around just over his head, observing all thisThe rolex watches for women creeping in my flesh grew worseI picked the broom up, weeping now not just from grief but also from the horrible discomfort of that unreachable itch, then realized I couldn't do what I needed to do - a one-armed man can't snap a broomhandle over his kneeI leaned it against the house again and stomped it with my good legThere was a snap, and the bristle end went flyingI held the jagged end up in front of my streaming eyes and noddedI went around the corner of the house toward the beach, a distant part of my mind registering the loud conversation of the shells beneath Big Pink 912 as the waves dashed into the darkness there and then withdrewI had one fleeting thought as I reached the knock off chanel wet and shining hardpack, dotted here and there with tennis balls: The third thing Elizabeth had said to Wireman was You will want to, but you mustn't"Too late," I said, and then the string tethering the Edgar over my head brokeHe floated away, and for a little while I knew no more17 - The South End of the Key i I next remember Wireman coming along and picking me upI remember walking a few steps, then recalling that Ilse was dead and collapsing to my kneesAnd the most shameful thing was that, even though I was heartbroken, I was also hungryI remember Wireman helping me in through the open door and telling me it was all a bad dream, that I'd been having the horrors, and when I told chanel classic handbag him no, it was true, Mary Ire had done it, Mary Ire had drowned Ilse in Ilse's own bathtub, he had 913 laughed and said that now he knew itFor one horrible moment I believed himI pointed to the answering machine"Play the message," I said, and went into the kitchenStaggered into the kitchenWhen Pam started in again - Edgar, the police called and they say Illy's dead! - I was eating fistfuls of Frosted Mini-Wheats straight from the boxI had a queer sense of being part of a prepared slideSoon I would be placed under a microscope and studiedIn the other room, the message endedWireman cursed and played it againThe time I'd spent on the beach before Wireman came along was missingThat louis vuitton backpacks part of my memory was as blank as my early hospital stay after my accidentI took a final handful of cereal, crammed it into my mouth, and swallowedIt stuck in my throat, and that was goodI hoped it would choke meI went shuffle-limping back into the living roomWireman was standing beside the answering machine, wide-eyedwhat in God's name - ?" 914 "One of the paintings," I said, and kept on shufflingNow that I had something in my stomach, I wanted some more oblivionIf only for a little whileOnly it was more than wanting, actually